Continued from Part 1. 

I was planning a trip to go see him.

This was right around the time I was put on anti depression medication and just beginning to manage my mental health, but he wanted me to meet her. This was the third (I think, maybe fourth) trip to Miami and the third (maybe) girl in his life I was going to meet. Rita, the first one from many articles back and Amanda, who has thus far been left out because it was the shortest and least eventful story. Remember, none of them knew I existed beyond “the best friend.” They never knew that he and I were intimate, which means they were never consenting to a polyamorous agreement (even if this was the worst way to go about poly, it was definitely never monogamous). They didn't know that he and I were in a version of a Dominant and submissive relationship. They didn't know my plan to move in with him when I got out (though this was not 100 percent the plan yet). I was just his friend from his job.... his “bestie,” “BFF” — he had to reveal at least that much since he and I texted/ Skyped/ Facebook Messenger-ed (is that a verb?) near constantly. I am typically not an overly jealous person. The night I met her was at a going away party for one of his work subordinates, there were about eight of us. They had all met her before; I had also met most of them on previous trips. I liked them, overall. So, I got dressed up because we were going to a somewhat fancy-ish place in South Beach (Miami's night-life/ tourist/ up-scale neighborhood — it’s also an island) and I met her. I didn’t find her overly attractive but she wasn’t un-attractive, just not my type. She looked younger than she actually was. We attempted some small talk at the bar before the others arrived. I could hardly understand her — I'm not good at accents — and felt awkward around her. I hadn't felt this around any of his other girls. Drinks and dinner continued. I was at the table across from Jackson, a work friend. Austin was next to me, and Erin on the other side next to him. Jackson and I talked back and forth until the conversation inevitably turned to politics and he is very conservative (I am NOT). The conversation just sort of faded after a brief back and forth. I began texting a friend I had met in Miami though Austin, Miranda. She and I really hit it off and had kept in contact so I wanted to see her on this trip. She is about my age. She has many of the same “country girl” roots I have, she’s a bit more “hard-core” than me. She drives a giant lifted pick up in Miami where a mini-cooper looks “big.” We were talking via Snap Chat so the conversation disappears as you go. She wanted me to meet up with her but Austin had driven us to this bar so I told her I was stuck on South Beach, which is accurate. It’s an island! Sooooo…. I couldn't come see her (her place was too far to Uber without it depleting my vacation money). Of course, this was the exact moment Austin decided to look over at me and read my phone. He wanted to know who I was texting and why I told them I was stuck somewhere. I told him it was Miranda and that she wanted to see me but I told her I was “stuck on South Beach.” He was PISSED. He called me out in front of the whole group of his friends. I was mortified. He kept asking me what my problem was and what was wrong with me. Remember, I (and everyone else) are a few drinks in and I am on a brand new anti-depressant (my psychiatrist told me it was fine to drink alcohol as long as I stayed away from binge drinking, which is considered four drinks per single occasion) ... not the best combination and DEFINITELY not the right time for him to have a personal conversation in front of all of his work friends plus Erin.

Now, looking back, I really think that antidepressant made me into a green monster. I think, for the first time, I was jealous of someone and someone's relationship. She had what I could never have: time with him, in person and a place with him, a place in his friend’s group. I was afraid I would never have what she had.

Also remember, I am just his “friend.” I have no place to ask him to take me home to. I have no voice to ask him to step outside with me and talk privately, friends don't do that. Any one of my “outs” would make me look like a crazy asshole in front of these people. I'm not sure how the rest of the night went; it's all a blur now. But he did ask me in his truck on the way home why I was “being so weird” and why I was texting and why I was distant and why I even came if I was going to be so weird and why I hated Erin. I didn't like her all that much, I'll give him that, but I certainly didn't know her well enough to hate her, not yet. Now, looking back, I really think that antidepressant made me into a green monster. I think, for the first time, I was jealous of someone and someone's relationship. She had what I could never have: time with him, in person and a place with him, a place in his friend’s group. I was afraid I would never have what she had. Still, I acted very weird that night. I was not myself. I asked him if we could not see her again during my trip. He assured me that they were friends (that they were not a couple) and she was in his life but was of no threat to me and my relationship with him. I knew that and was always ok with their friendship. I was not ok hanging out with her together until I was better at my emotions and reactions.

To Be Continued